A week ago today, unexpectedly, I said goodbye to my Skye. The night before, although she ate slowly, she played with SamCat and her toys. She happily squeaked her favorites during the evening and had a favorite yam cookie before bed.

Friday morning she again ate very slowly, but finished her breakfast. As always, I told both dogs I would see them after work and gave each a pat.

When I got home, Skye did not greet me at the door. Probably a first in over 12 years. She was flat out collapsed on the floor near her water bowl. She managed to get up and slowly went out with Buddy. She urinated, took a step and collapsed again.

I got her inside and called her vets (where I work) and they told me they were turning back around and would meet me at the office. It took us awhile to make it from the house to the car and I had to lift her in. She was exhausted walking to the car.

20 minutes later, we were back at the clinic and I helped her out. She walked in on her own, but was not steady and seemed confused.

Her doctors spent some time feeling her abdominal area, then checked her gums (almost white) and with some difficulty drew blood. By then she was lying down, so tired.

One of her doctors carried her to the ultrasound room. The mass on her liver was so large. And it was bleeding.

And it could not be fixed.

Because of her extreme anemia, the mass that was bleeding out and her age I knew I had to let her go.

There had been no warning, although I do wonder now if it was already in her bones and may have contributed to her mobility problems. I elected not to put her through radiology, since even if her heart and lungs were okay, the liver mass was causing her such pain. She was having difficulty breathing.

Her doctors said she was a tough, brave girl.

I told her how much I love her, I told her she was such a good, good dog....and we helped her out of this life.

I adopted Skye in January of 2004 when she was barely 4 months old. I said goodbye in January of 2016 when she was 12 years and 4 months old.